


So Close

by myracingthoughts



Series: Darcy Lewis Bingo [15]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Almost Kiss, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Halloween, House Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27029236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myracingthoughts/pseuds/myracingthoughts
Summary: Darcy oscillated between dipping out in the next thirty minutes (shedidhave a 6 AM shift at the cafe in the morning) and getting so black-out drunk she wouldn’t remember being a third wheel again.But tonight, she’d let the party take its course and decide for her.Hopefully, it’d end up better than last year.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Darcy Lewis
Series: Darcy Lewis Bingo [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1927495
Comments: 12
Kudos: 63
Collections: Darcy Lewis Bingo





	So Close

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for Darcy Lewis Bingo and checks off box R2 - Almost Kiss.

Inflatable furniture on the lawn. Beer cans scattered across the driveway. Pumpkins with crude dicks carved into them, sitting on the front porch. 

Yep, smelled like a frat party, alright.

Another night, another sub-par ride-along with her roommate and her boyfriend. Jane was all work, no play until Thor rolled around, and then it was off to the next kegger or sorority adventure. Tonight she’d had all of 45 minutes’ notice to scrounge together a costume. Darcy didn’t remember signing up to be the Debbie Downer of the group, but somewhere along the lines of ending up alone at the end of every one of her adventures, she got a little more jaded than she would have liked.

Darcy hated being the third wheel. 

It was all of five minutes into her house party experience before Jane ditched her to hang off Thor’s arm. She couldn’t really blame her; their schedules made it hard to see each other often. Between her labs and his extracurriculars, they might as well have been going to different schools entirely. Oh well. They’d have all night to reacquaint themselves, she thought with an eye roll. In fact, the pair had probably made their way to one of the dozen bedrooms at this rate, leaving Darcy to find her own fun, as usual.

Darcy oscillated between dipping out in the next thirty minutes (she _did_ have a 6 AM shift at the cafe in the morning) and getting so black-out drunk she wouldn’t remember being a third wheel again.

But tonight, she’d let the party take its course and decide for her. 

Hopefully, it’d end up better than last year.

Navigating through the swaths of attendees, she was already regretting the wig, sneaking an itch at the back of her neck. God, it wasn’t even midnight yet and Darcy already knew it would be a miracle if they didn’t get a noise complaint tonight. 

The keg was just across the room, flanked by a bunch of jocks she could smell from where she stood (ugh, _Axe_ ), but Darcy was too distracted by a nearby loner in a cowboy hat, already nursing a nearly-empty Solo cup.

“Please tell me you’re John Wayne in Red River, because that vest is perfect,” Darcy gushed, fingers catching on the soft material of the vest, eyeing the kerchief knotted around his neck.

His smile grew wider, revealing a dimple, “It is indeed, Pulp Fiction. Didn’t think anyone would get the reference past generic cowboy #12.”

“It’s all in the details,” Darcy brushed off, just like she ignored the flutter in her stomach at the way he looked at her. “I’m Darcy, by the way.”

It was her turn to give him a good glance now, unashamedly giving him a full head-to-toe in the darkroom. From the messy tufts of blonde hair sticking up at odd angles from under his hat to the stubble shadowing his cheekbones. And even to the biceps that may have been more of a draw than his outfit.

Darcy was a shameless arm woman, and watching the way the muscles tensed and flexed as he held his cup was a little more distracting than she’d care to admit.

“Clint,” he offered. “Film student?”

She snorted, knowing the only class she’d failed so far was an elective film class last semester. Early morning classes didn’t tend to agree with her. She’d found herself sleeping-in past the 8 AM start times most Monday mornings, opting for a breakfast sandwich and a coffee to nurse her hangover instead.

“Poli sci. You?”

He quirked a brow at that, almost impressed.

“Undeclared,” he responded with a sheepish grin.

Sounded about right. 

Darcy couldn’t help but go in for the dig, “Buying time or not a fan of commitment?”

His lips curved into a smirk, “Something like that.”

Clint had all the hallmarks and red flags of every bad idea she’d had; that confident smirk, the wandering blue eyes (why were they always _blue_?), and the fact he was somehow solo? Did people go to parties alone? Was that a thing? Was he secretly a serial killer?

Darcy was so used to being the only third wheel that this whole scenario almost felt like a plant.

“Did you come alone or?” she tried to make it sound casual, but from the twitch in his lips, he’d probably already caught on.

The thumping house music seemed to get louder, and Clint inched closer towards her, mouth moving closer to her ears to overcome the ambient noise. It wasn’t until he tilted towards her that she saw the hearing aid in his ear, and Darcy angled towards that side as she responded.

“Uh, my friend invited me, but she’s…” his eyes crossed the room in an instant, returning to hers with a shrug. “Nat must have slipped off somewhere.”

“Wait, _Steve’s_ Nat?”

His eyes locked to hers, “Yeah, how do you know Steve?”

Didn’t everyone know Steve? Between being the star pitcher on the school’s baseball team and practically being the poster boy for the entire college, Steve Rogers seemed to know everybody. He always had a broad, perfect smile and a warmth that was hard to ignore.

That said, he wasn’t precisely Darcy’s type --which was good because he was very much dating Natasha Romanoff, and she was a little scary. 

Not that Darcy would ever say that out loud.

“He’s in a bunch of my classes. International relations, American history…” Darcy trailed off, distracted by the way his eyes locked on her lips. She figured he was probably having a hard time with the noise. “How do you know Nat?”

“We lived on the same floor last year,” he replied with a smile. “I’m surprised we never met.”

Something about the scene around her and the laugh in his tone clicked, unlocking something she’d tried so hard to bury.

“Wait,” Darcy started, her eyebrow crooked as she remembered. “Last year? Were you at Nat’s Halloween party?”

Clint choked on his last sip of beer, flushing red as he looked a little guilty.

“Yes, but—“

“ _You’re_ the guy who dumped his whole beer on my very expensive Disney princess gown,” Darcy admonished, keeping her voice more airy than accusatory.

Clint rubbed the back of his neck nervously, bashful grin slipping into an apologetic grimace, “I uh, actually don’t remember much of that night.”

A likely excuse.

“Or most that year, even.”

“Steve came in with the club soda save because you were drinking some rank pumpkin spice amber ale or something,” Darcy mused, thinking back. “That thing was movie-accurate and everything. It never smelled the same.”

Blue eyes looked at the beer in his grasp; Clint clearly felt terrible, mouth making its best impression of a goldfish as he tried to find the words.

“I think that was my date’s?” Clint offered unhelpfully, trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “I’m sorry?

But Darcy could barely keep the smile off her face, “It’s not a big deal, dude. Just a costume.”

She wasn’t actually mad, just amused the universe had somehow put them back together after the chaos that was last year. Clint looked relieved at being let off the hook, looking across the room to the crowd congregated around the alcohol.

“Can I offer you a fresh beer as an apology?”

Darcy snorted, “As long as it isn’t some seasonal frankenbeer.”

“I can promise that much. I’ll pour you the finest Pabst has to offer. After you,” Clint offered, palm up towards the sea of people between them and the keg.

He kept his right hand on her waist as they wove through the crowd, the warmth of it extending past the heat of the room and the noise of the chatter. Darcy tried to ignore the twist in her stomach at his gentle grasp, thumb tracing circles on her white dress shirt. 

Maybe she wouldn’t have been so distracted if he hadn’t been touching her. She might have even seen the dude struggling to stay upright straight ahead, taking unsteady steps with a Solo cup of mostly foam.

“What the fu—“

She couldn’t even get the words out as she felt the impact, the six-foot-tall built-like-a-football-player bro towering over her as she stumbled. The ground seemed to meet her in slow motion, and she braced herself for a messy landing. 

But it never came.

Opening her eyes, she came face-to-face instead with a pair of brilliant blue eyes. A (solid) arm was wrapped around her waist, bringing her feet back to the ground and gently righting her until she was vertical again.

But it didn’t let go, hooking around her waist as she was still struggling to balance herself. 

She kind of didn’t want it to.

Clint looked almost expectantly at her, faces inches away as she breathed out, “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Darcy could see a few pairs of eyes staring at them from the corner of her eyes, pushing her wig back into place to cover the blush across her face at putting on a show. Inches away from his lips, praying she didn’t smell like stale beer and cigarettes, Darcy had to take a deep breath to keep her head from spinning. To keep herself from closing the gap and giving him some ‘knight in shining armour’ complex.

“You alright?” Clint asked, unmoving from her grasp.

Was she? It had taken her this long to realize her hands were clutching at his vest, steadying herself against his broad chest.

Snapping herself out of the daze, she tried to play it off with a chuckle and her best confident smirk.

“Slow down, cowboy. You’re going to have to buy me at least coffee before we get all tangled up in _whatever_ this is,” she joked as she patted him on the chest, maybe more for her benefit than his. “Especially since you already ruined one of my favourite costumes.”

The room resumed to familiar chatter, the potential moment over, at least for the audience.

But, not one to give up so easily, Clint seemed to take her up on the challenge. 

“How’s tomorrow looking for you?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading. All comments, kudos and bookmarks are loved and cherished.
> 
> You can also find me on [tumblr](https://pasmonblog.tumblr.com/), where I post comic book content, work updates, and behind-the-scenes commentary. I also take [prompts](https://pasmonblog.tumblr.com/prompts).


End file.
